


[Piers x Reader] Galarian Delivery Service

by ModDawnButAO3



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, I am clinically insane., I have math class in 2 hours, It is 8:30 in the morning and I've been writing this since 12 am last night, Nonbinary Character, Please help me., Pokemon, Possibly. - Freeform, Self-Insert, This is eventually going to have smut maybe, if i think of anymore tags ill add to this, no smut in the first chapter even though the first chapter is over 3k words sorry guys, why am i like this, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModDawnButAO3/pseuds/ModDawnButAO3
Summary: You've just moved to the Galar region. You are ready to start a new life, despite struggling to make ends meet. That's when you get a job as a postal service worker for the GPS. Galarian Postal Service. One late night shift you notice the last name on your route's paper. Piers. Well then. Let's get this over with.
Relationships: Nezu | Piers (Pokemon)/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	[Piers x Reader] Galarian Delivery Service

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my attempt at writing a full fledged self insert fic. This is all completely unedited.  
> -I tried my best with the accent. I like to study accents for fun, and I pictured him to have a more cockney accent. Alas I dunno if I did my best expressing the accent in text. If there's anyone who has any tips or corrections please feel free to let me know.  
> -I chose a song in the beginning that I'd picture him singing...yeah. lol.  
> -ALSO I tried making this as gender neutral as possible! Sorry in advance!!  
> -I feel I was gonna write something else here?? But I'm so sleep deprived I no longer remember. OK anyways enjoy!

_Oh, Ana, I'll be with you still_

Your rushing footsteps were deafened by a booming voice and people cheering. You only been to Spikemuth a handful of times, and you wanted to leave as quickly as you had found yourself there.

_You are the angel that I couldn't kill_

You were lost, the only way to go was _towards_ what you could only call racket in that moment. Maybe any other time it would be music to you, but you were tired and starving. You had been working for twelve hours, and at this point it was close to twelve am. The Spikemuth roads take you to a mosh pit. It was a concert, and at center stage was the man you were looking for. You sighed, tightening your grip on the package in your hand, and tried making your way into the mass of fans and team yell grunts.

 _For Arceus sakes the air reeks of alcohol and sweat._ It was all so overstimulating, the smell, the noise. It felt as if your heart would burst out of your chest, if your head didn’t split from the massive headache you felt first. Lost in these thoughts, your shoulder bumps into another crowd member, the small box falling out of your hands. _Shit_ is the only thing that came out of your mouth. Your eyes spot the box through the crowd of legs and you quickly swoop it up, trying not to get trampled from the rescue attempt.

“’Ow you doin’, Spikemuth!?” The crowd roars in reply, but not wanting to drop the package again you have no way to block your ears. “I can’t ‘ear you!” The screams louden, tears pricking the corner of your eyes because of it. You glare up at the back of someone’s head, but the sentiment of it supposing to be the stage was still there. “Well, as much as I’d love t’ be with you all for the rest o’ the night, I ‘ave to make my leave.” The disappointment in the crowd was obvious, but you were ecstatic. Maybe finally you could deliver this fucking package and be done work for the rest of the night. The man at center stage waves to the crowd, even blowing kisses at a few random fans in the crowd, before walking off the stage.

It takes minutes for the crowd to finally calm down and start to disperse. You wondered if you should maybe just find somewhere to sit until everyone finally left but looking around there was no where to even sit. _Maybe there was a bathroom._ _Yeah. That could work._ Your legs begin taking you through the crowd once more, but this time they were trying to find your way out of it. You reach the end of the crowd, your eyes trying to trace the surrounding area for anything that could indicate a bathroom. There you see a door in a nearby alleyway, which seemed to be a bit different from other doors. _Could that be a bathroom?_ You had hoped so, but you were in so much pain you didn’t really care. You just wanted to sit down until the crowd was gone. No one noticed you; it was so easy for you to slip into the door and shut it behind you. Inside was pitch black, and all the noise that was causing most of your pain was muffled. Your back hits the door with a sigh of relief, and you slide to the floor. _Just a few minutes_ your eyes close. _I’ll just rest my eyes for a few minutes._ And that’s what you thought you’d do, but instead what you ended up doing was nodding off. The sweet release of sleep surrounds you; and while it wasn’t the most comfortable, anything was great for how shit you felt.

【…☾…】

Sleep normally would help a headache, but a sharp pain shot through your skull when you felt your head hit the cement under you. “Fuck-!” you yell out, your body reacting from the sudden wake up call by sitting up and rubbing your head. You finally open your eyes and look at your hand, making sure your head wasn’t bleeding.

“Oi,” an irritated male voice called from behind you. You turn your head to the voice, remembering where you are. In front of you stood two team yell grunts, holding equipment in their arms. “Did y’pass out in here from alcohol or some’in? G’home!”

You grab the package from your lap and stand up, “Wait,” you look at the grunts with pleading eyes, “I need to see Piers.” They both exchange irritated looks with one another. One grunt grabs you and pulls you out of what you realized was a storage closet.

“Listen,” the grunt keeps a strong grip on the back of your shirt, “You can’t be hidin’ ‘round just to see Piers one on one. Come back on days ‘e’s takin autographs.”

You kick and squirm, “That’s not-!” Your words are cut off from the sharp clank of heels walk over to the alley. Both the grunts and you stop, realizing who stood before you. He was so much taller than you imagined. The times you came to Spikemuth for work you were only delivering to normal citizens. Not the guy who seemed to have Spikemuth in the palm of his hand himself. Ex-Gym Leader Piers. You snapped out of your gaze when a deep silky voice speaks out.

“What the ‘ell is goin’ on ‘ere now?” It was impossible to tell whether he was annoyed, or if he always sounded like this.

“A fan hidin’ in the storage closet again!” the grunt replied to his boss. You glare up at the grunt, grinding your teeth.

“That’s not why I’m here-!” you squirm again, trying to get loose from the grunts grip.

The tired teal eyes rolled, “Drop’em.” The lanky man let out a sigh.

“But—”

“ _Now_.”

You hit the ground with an oof, the package falling out of your hands. Pier’s eyebrow raises and picks up the box. “This for me?” he asks, noticing his name written in fancy calligraphy on top of the box. You stand up, dusting yourself off in deep annoyance.

“ _Yes,_ ” you spurt out, “I’ve been trying to get this damn thing to you all night.” He looks down at the box in curiosity, opening it right in front of you, wondering what it could hold inside.

“Darlin’,” he speaks, his voice seeming less irritated now, “There’s nothin’ in ‘ere.” You can’t even _process_ him calling you darling before you process him saying there’s nothing inside.

“ _What,_ ” your brows furrow, and your eyes widen. Piers holds up the box, showing the bottom completely open. “You’ve _got_ to be fucking _kidding me!_ ” You snatch the box from him and stare at the cardboard. He scoffs and opens his mouth to comment on your attitude but before he could he notices your lips beginning to tremble. You didn’t want to burst into tears, not here. Not in front of these grunts. Not in front of _him_. “I can’t believe this. This can’t be happening to me.” You felt as if your knees could buckle from beneath you. Tears prick your eyes, but you try to wipe them away quickly with your sleeve.

You hear the tall singer give out an exhausted sigh. “What was it,” he began rubbing the back of his head, looking off in thought, “Maybe we can look for it.” You looked at him, your eyes watery and puffy. You didn’t know how to tell him that you didn’t know _what_ was in the box. He speaks up, “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” his glance moved back to you, “just tell me what was in it.”

“I,” you try to pierce the words out from your quivering lips, “I don’t know.” He blinked.

“You…don’t know?” He looked honestly quite shocked. This entire time he thought you were some crazed fan who just wanted to give him a gift. You shook your head in reply, a lump beginning to catch in your throat.

“You were my last delivery for the night,” now you couldn’t help but tear up, “I didn’t know what else to do so I—” if you spoke anymore you’d burst into tears.

Now he felt bad. He wasn’t really sure _what_ to do in these types of situations. He looked at the two grunts behind you, trying to read their faces, trying to see maybe just maybe they had an idea on what to do. But neither of them spokes up. Both just shrugged and shook their heads. He looked back down at you, and you looked just as exhausted as he did—if not more.

“Where do you live?” he broke the silence around the four of you.

“I live in,” you gulp a bit, trying to hold back your composure, “Postwick.”

He seethed hearing that, “Shit,” his hand pulled back his long bangs. “That’s pretty fucking far from ‘ere.” He looked down in thought, just wondering what the hell to do. “And may I ask darling,” his face showed some frustration yet being called darling made it seem he wasn’t frustrated directly at you, “Why were you delivering a package so late in the night?” 

“I work with the Galar postal service,” you sniff, “You were the last person on my delivery list.”

“Don’t they not have people in each area doin’ all the fuckin’ mail service?” He looked baffled, but his language made you flinch a bit as you shook your head. He realized he scared you, “Sorry,” he sighed. You heard the clank of his boots walk closer to you and felt a large hand gently touch your shoulder, “I ain’t mad at ye.” You looked up at him, eyes widened. His face seemed so much calmer now, “Maybe I can get someone to fly you home—”

You cut him off, “No!” He blinked in confusion, “I mean— If I got on a Pokémon to fly home, I think I’d vomit.” You looked down embarrassed, “My head is killing me.” He knew how you felt. He knew how the splitting headaches felt. He was a Rockstar. Of course, he knew the feeling.

“Alright,” he spoke up, “You can stay at my place for the night.” Now _that_ you weren’t expecting either. The grunts blinked, quite shocked from Piers’ choice as well. You blinked, your tired eyes making their way up to his. “I’ll have these two here look for whatever it could have been tonight.” The grunts didn’t look happy about having to stay up to look for who knows what. “Then tomorrow you and I can try to find it if they hadn’t.” 

“But—” He moved his long bony finger up to your lips.

“I insist,” He pulled his finger away, “At least to make up for the misinterpretation tonight.” You felt you had no other choice. You felt too sick to get on some Pokémon to fly home. You were afraid to leave Spikemuth anyways until the item was found. You couldn’t walk all the way back to Postwick. Especially not at—you didn’t even know what time it was at that point. In Spikemuth, time felt so slow yet nonexistent.

You sighed, “Okay.” He took that as a que. He nodded towards the grunts almost like a command. They both stood straight and saluted to him. They finally walked into the storage closet to put away the equipment before their search. Piers looked down at you and took your arm gently.

“Com’on,” He gently pulled on you. You looked at him nervously realizing what was happening. You were about to go home with this random stranger, and not just that but he was an ex-gym leader. He also was Spikemuth’s most famous person. Honestly probably one of the most famous people in the Galar region all together. That’s all you knew about him. Even then you didn’t realize just how important he was considering you just moved to the Galar region. You only knew things from word of mouth and the telly. He tugged at you, and you felt yourself starting to get dragged away from the alley.

【…☾…】

You weren’t paying attention when you bumped into the back of the Rockstar. He looked down at you, “We’re here.” You looked up at the home, which was just a normal terraced home. He let go of your arm and started rummaging through his pants pocket. There you saw him pull out a key, sticking it into the keyhole. You wondered what a rockstars house would look like. You expected it to be messy. Probably alcohol bottles everywhere, porn magazines, trash. That’s what you saw in the movies at least. Bearing for the worst, you saw him open the door. To your surprise the living area was orderly and neat. He walked in and slid his jacket off his thin yet toned arms. He looked back at you confused, “Aren’t you going to come in?”

You snapped out of your shock, “R-Right.” You stammered inside. He shut the door behind you and noticed the look on your face, seeing you look around almost in awe.

“What’s that look for?”

“It’s” you were so tired, and this felt like a fever dream, so you had no filter, “so _clean._ ”

“Wow thanks.” He replied in a deadpan tone.

You freaked out realizing what the fuck you just said, “No I didn’t mean it like that!” You waved your hands in front of your face. He chuckled.

“Chill out,” he smirked, “I get it. I’m sure you were expectin’ some ‘ell ‘ole of a place.”

“ _No_ ,” you tried to bluff your way out of this with some reassurance, “That’s not what I was expecting at all.” This made him laugh. You didn’t expect his laugh to sound so deep and booming either.

He winked at you playfully, “Just don’t go lookin’ ‘round at my work room, eh?” He chuckled and walked over to the couch, plopping himself down on it. You stood there not knowing how to respond or what to do in the stranger’s home. He looked over, “Are y’just going to stand there all night?” You let out an audible noise, unsure of what it even was and just shook your head. You nervously walked over to the couch and sat a distance between the two of you. “Y’ungry?” You heard him speak up, seeing him in the corner of your eyes take out his rotom phone. You were but…something felt off about this. You were nervous. You didn’t even know why. Well you did. But that’s besides the point. This was different.

“A little,” you peeped. He smirked at your response. “Why?”

“I was gonna order us some food,” He showed the Pokedash app, “What d’you want?”

“Is anything even open?”

“Of course,” he flicked his finger across the screen, looking at all the choices on the app, “It may be two am but there’s still plenty o’ choices t’ choose from.” Wait. Did he say _two in the fucking morning?_

“It’s two am!?” you squeaked out.

He nodded, “yep,” his eyes didn’t leave the phone. “I normally would get ‘ome ‘round one, but y’know.” This made you feel bad. You knew he got home even later because of the incident with you. “Pizza sound good?” You were preoccupied in your brain. He repeated himself, “y’there?” You snapped out of your guilt dazed thought and looked at him.

“Huh?”

“Is Pizza good?”

“Oh,” You looked away and nodded, “Yeah pizza is fine.” You heard him click away at the screen as he ordered the food. He set his phone down on the coffee table in front of you both. Next to the phone was a remote, which he picked up and turned the television on. Your eyes glanced up, watching him flick through the channels. That is until he stopped the tv at what seemed to be a horror movie of some sort.

“Oh, I love this movie,” His head turned to you, “Are y’okay if we watched this?” You didn’t want to be anymore of a bother than you already felt and just nodded. You were easily scared of horror films at times, but you weren’t going to let your own fears become a burden for the man anymore than you felt you had been. You sat on the end of the couch in discomfort, feeling extremely awkward. You would peek from the corner of your eyes occasionally, seeing his tired teal eyes focused on the telly. You finally could take a good look at him. His pale skin glistened from the sweat he had produced from his concert. You could tell his teeth were clenched based on how his shaped jawline looked tight. It seemed his resting face _was_ stress. Even his brow was still furrowed. Your eyes moved back to the television. It was quite a bloody mess. It seemed to be a slasher, the killer wearing an Eevee mask. You shut your eyes, covering your face with your hand. Even watching a movie made you feel sick. He glanced over, “Everything ‘lright?”

You nodded, “Yeah,” but your hand stayed on your face. “My head is just in a lot of pain.” You didn’t see him stand up, but heard his boots walk further away. Your senses felt more active than ever before. Your ears picked up on the sound of glass clanking. The sound of a sink turning on and off. Then those same heeled boots slowly making it’s way closer to you.

“Here.” Your eye poked out from it’s hiding place under your hand. He stood in front of you, his hand holding out what looked like pills. “It’s Tylenol,” he pushed his hand a bit more forward, a way of telling you to take them. You nervously take them from his hand. When you did, you noticed his hand felt cold and calloused. “Sorry it’s PM,” he held out a glass of water with his other hand. “But it’s late anyways,” you take the glass from him, quickly popping the pills in your mouth, “It’s best y’sleep soon.” You gulped the water and pills down. Your head pounded against your temples when you pulled away from the glass. He gently took the glass from your hand and placed it on the coffee table. Just as if perfect timing were controlled by fate, the doorbell rang. He made his way to the door and opened it. You heard him interact with the pokedasher, and it felt so _surreal_. “Thank ye,” you heard him say to the man. Were you sure you really weren’t in some kind of weird fever dream? Maybe you really did hit your head too hard on the cement earlier. Or maybe you passed out even earlier than that. Piers shut the door with his boot, walking over to set the box down. You squinted at him, the light of the living room being too much for your eyes. He opened the box, and the smell of pizza quickly made your senses focus only on the food. You watched him grab a paper plate and put a slice on the plate. He held it out to you, you blinked. “’Ere you go,” you took the plate from his hands, “Dig in.” You watched him grab himself a slice and sit back down on the couch, placing his eyes back to the movie.

“Thank you,” you spoke up, staring down at the greasy piece of food. You picked it up and took a bite. It felt good to have food finally in your system. He glanced at you.

“For what?” at least that’s what you thought he said. His mouth was full of food.

“For all of this,” you weren’t really sure how to even begin, “you know.”

He swallowed the bite of pizza in his mouth, “Darlin’,” you for once processed him calling you that. It made some blood rush to your cheeks hearing him say that, but you guessed he called everyone that. “I told ye,” you wondered if he noticed the blushing, “This is t’make up for the shit we put y’through earlier.”

“[Y/N]”

“Huh?”

“My name is [Y/N].” he blinked but took to your name quickly.

“Well [Y/N],” your heart skipped against your chest when he said your name, “It’s nice t’meet ye.” He chuckled, “Despite the circumstances.” You weren’t sure how to respond at all, it grew awkwardly quiet. He took that as his queue to continue eating and watching his movie. You took another bite of your pizza, feeling the grease on your lips. You eventually finished your piece and that was enough food for you. You stared at the tv, the Tylenol seeming to finally kick in. You yawned but continued trying to keep your eyes open. Your eyes refused to stay open though, and you began to nod off.

【…☾…】

You opened your eyes; the lights were now off. The only light came from a black and white film on the television. You seemed to be lying down at this point on a very comfortable pillow. Your snuggled into the couch, your eyes beginning to close again—until you heard a soft snore above you. Your eyes jolted open, remembering where you were. You sat up and looked over at the source of the noise. That was no pillow you just snuggled into, that was the lap of the now sleeping Rockstar that you lost the package of, that you went into his home, that he bought you _food_ of. Your headache was gone, and that’s when you realized this was no longer a fucking dream. You were seriously just using this man’s lap as a damn pillow. All the blood inside you rushed directly to your face. His face rested on his fist, his other arm resting on the couch’s back cushion. You stared trying to _process_ everything. But you were so exhausted still, you curled to the other side of the couch. You curled yourself into a ball and tried your best to sleep, though it was a more uncomfortable position. The ex-gym leaders lap was much more comfortable—no. Shake those thoughts from your head dammit. You felt yourself wanting to nod off again, hoping when you woke up this would be another damn dream. Darkness finally overtook you.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ya'll! I tried my best but this is unedited. I'll probably edit this in the future and stuff the more I go with it ;;;;;  
> This is for fun! So of course with that it'll probably be a bit before I write another chapter. Don't worry though I'll definitely be writing another chapter.
> 
> If anyone has any ideas for a better name for this fic please let me know I Need some dang help :/


End file.
